


Bleed

by Mordhena



Series: A Grief Observed [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cutting, M/M, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: Timeline: After Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things - During Simon SaidAN:Spoilers: Mild for Simon SaidAnd you can't fight the tears that ain't comin'nor the moment of truth in your lieswhen everything feels like the moviesyeah you bleed just to know you're aliveIris - Goo Goo Dolls





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haggitha](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Haggitha).



> This story picks up the day after "Grief"
> 
> * * *

_He'll come back. He always comes back_. Sam Winchester paced back and forth in front of the motel. He'd had to pack their bags and take them out of the room to avoid paying another night's accommodation. He looked up and down the street, straining his eyes and listening for the sound of the Impala's up engine.  _What if he doesn't come back?_  Sam shook his head.  _Then I'll go to the roadhouse. I'll wait for him there. He'll come there to see if Ash has found anything…but he'll come back. He always does._  
  
After waiting for three hours, alternately pacing the width of the hotel's driveway, and sitting on the kerb, Sam decided that Dean was really pissed with him this time and he wasn't coming back for him just yet. Sam hefted the bags and started walking.   
  
_Yeah well, fuck him anyway._  He thought sullenly as he plodded along the street.  _Fuck him and fuck hunting, and… fuck us for having so many weapons!_  He stopped, set down the duffle full of guns, salt and other paraphernalia of demon hunting and switched hands. He slung the heavier bag over one shoulder wincing at pain in his wrist.   
  
Sam was waiting at the local greyhound terminus for a coach that would take him near Ellen's place, when the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the depot. He pretended not to see it. Sam kept his eyes downcast when he knew that Dean was walking towards him; didn't look up or speak when his brother stopped in front of him.  
  
"Hey, sweetheart," Dean's tone mocked him. "Use a ride?"  
  
Sam closed his eyes, turned his head away.  
  
"Aww c'mon, babe, don't treat me bad."  
  
He had to bite his lip to keep from yelling at his smart-assed brother. He wasn't going to play that game.  
  
"Sam!" The tone became more insistent now, sober. "Come on." Dean picked up the bags and started walking.   
  
After a moment, Sam got up and followed him.  _He always comes back,_  he thought, permitting himself a triumphant smile at Dean's back.  
  
They got into the car and Dean gunned the engine heading out onto the open road in a cloud of tire-smoke. They drove in silence for a good while, but eventually Sam relented. "Thanks for…saving me the bus fare," he said.  
  
A smirk in response and then Dean glanced at him. "Well  _you_  know me," he said. "Sucker for a damsel in distress."  
  
Sam shot him a look full of murder and clamped his mouth shut. He hated the way Dean did that. Always some smart-mouth comment. It had started when they were kids. Dean would haze him about being afraid at night time, call him a sissy, a girl and, as they got older, more creative epithets. It bugged the shit out of Sam but he tried not to let it show. If you let Dean know he'd found a sore spot then he would pick at it until it bled.  
  
"Did you eat breakfast?" Dean asked after a few minutes.  
  
"No," Sam replied. "I wasn't hungry." No mention of the number of times he had started awake in the night, calling for his brother. No mention of his fear when he woke to morning light and Dean was still not back. Sam bit his tongue and kept all of that to himself. Dean would only use it as ammunition.  
  
"There's a diner not far ahead," Dean indicated a faded billboard by the road with a jerk of his chin. "We could stop if you want."  
  
"Okay." Sam turned back to staring out of the window. "Whatever."  
  
"You sure are talkative," Dean snarked.

Sam didn't answer.  
  
They pulled up a few minutes later and got out of the car. Sam walked ahead of Dean into the dingy little place and made his way to a table, burying his nose in a menu before his brother sat down. He didn't really focus on the list of food items. He just wanted a reason not to look into his brother's eyes and read the memory of last night in them. He didn't want to see the veiled contempt on Dean's face. He felt bad enough about things as it was. He saw no reason to court more pain.  
  
A woman stopped beside the table with cups and a coffee pot. She poured for them both without asking. Coffee in a diner was a given. Sam glanced up at her and smiled. "Thanks," he said.  
  
The woman, tired and harried looking, he guessed in her mid thirties, smiled and gave him a wink. "Welcome, Sugar," she said. "What'll you have?"  
  
He ordered pancakes and laid his menu down on the table, turning to look out of the diner windows at the road instead.  
  
Sam was confused. Dean hadn't given any indication of even remembering what had happened between them in the motel room last night. For Sam, the memory was crystal clear, brittle as glass. He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the warmth of Dean's mouth on his, the wild beating of his heart, and the deeper, un-examined feelings of want, of pleasure, of…  
  
"Your coffee's going cold," Dean said, pulling Sam back to the present.  
  
He picked up the cup and drank it down in one draught, setting it back on the table with a resounding thud and met Dean's eyes. "Not anymore," he said and made to turn away again.  
  
"Don't you fucking dare!" Dean grabbed Sam's injured wrist across the table, applying enough pressure that it hurt, "You shut me out again, I'm gonna smack you right out of your seat, Sammy!" He kept his voice low, intense, but the threat was unmistakable.  
  
Sam sneered. "That's the way you solve everything. Bring it on." He deliberately turned to the window, rubbing his wrist with a wince. He didn't get to see if Dean would make good on his threat, as the waitress reappeared at that moment with their food.   
  
She set the plates down on the table and glanced at Sam's empty cup. "Getcha more coffee?"   
  
Sam shook his head, no. "Thanks," he added as an afterthought.  
  
After a half hour of pushing his food around without really attempting to eat it, Sam gave up. He pushed the plate away, leaned back in his chair and looked at his brother across the table. He folded his arms across his chest, watching as Dean cleaned his own plate and then gestured at Sam's.  
  
"Y'gonna eat that."  
  
"No." Sam paused, then, "Where'd you go last night?"  
  
"Bar." Dean pulled Sam's plate towards him and started in on the pancakes.   
  
"All night?" Sam narrowed his eyes. "You don't look drunk."  
  
"I'm not drunk. I didn't stay there all night." He put a forkful of pancake into his mouth and spoke around it. "Slept in the car."  
  
Sam nodded, lowered his eyes.  _Now what? Do we just push it under the carpet and hope it'll go away?  
_

  
  
As they walked out of the diner, Dean tossed the car keys to Sam. He was beat. The impala was a dream to drive, his beloved Baby, but she was a bitch for sleeping in. He'd spent an uncomfortable night, too stubborn to return to the motel and face Sam, and too short on cash to get himself another room.  
  
"You drive," he said, getting into the passenger side. He pulled a pair of dark glasses from the pocket of his jacket, slipping them on and settling low against the leather upholstery.  
  
"I don't believe you." Sam said. He put the keys into the ignition but he didn't start the engine. "You're just gonna pretend like nothing happened?"  
  
Dean pulled the shades low on his nose and gave Sam a look over the top of them.   
  
"I mean, don't you think we should…"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Sam scowled. He turned away and started the car. He shifted gears, spinning the wheels as he pulled away from the diner. He shot his brother a glance and shook his head, lightly striking the steering wheel with a balled fist.  
  
"As far as I can tell, there's nothing to talk about," Dean said quietly. "I offered-you turned me down; end of."  
  
"And that's it?"  
  
"Just like that." Dean pushed his glasses back up his nose, folded his arms and settled to sleep.  
  
"Where are we going?"   
  
Dean sighed. "Find a clinic," he said with a glance at Sam's right wrist. "You need to get that looked at."  
  
"Right."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is explicit content in this chapter. Reader be warned. :)

Sam's wrist was broken. He displayed the cast to his brother as he returned to the waiting room. He also rattled a small bottle of some pretty serious pain relief the medic had given him.   
  
Dean smirked. "You gettin' soft, Sammy?" He stood up and clapped his brother on the shoulder as they made their way out to the car. "Gimme the keys," Dean said, moving to the driver's door. "I'll drive this time-can't have you straining something." He grinned at the dark look his brother gave him, deftly catching the keys which were launched with considerable force in the direction of his face. "Whoah! Easy there, Tiger, you might hurt yourself." He was still sniggering when he got behind the wheel and revved up the Impala.  
  
Sam got in, slamming the door, and tacitly ignored Dean.  _He said he offered, and I turned him down,_  Sam thought, gnawing on his thumbnail.  _Was he seriously asking me to…_  He looked at Dean from the corner of his eye, not wanting his brother to notice his gaze. His brows drew together in thought.  _What even makes him think that any part of that is okay?_ Still, Dean's attitude said that he thought his actions were okay.  _He must be out of his mind. I mean, why now? Why all of a sudden? He's not gay…is he?_  Another thoughtful glance at Dean. _N_ _aw…no way, the number of chicks he's been with over the years-besides even if he was gay, he could find plenty of willing guys without having to hit on me_. Sam had noticed the appreciative glances Dean got from guys as well as girls.   
  
He couldn't figure it out, and thinking about it was made his head hurt. At least, something was making his head hurt. He let out a breath and rubbed his forehead.  
  
"Tired, Bro?" Dean had glanced over at him.   
  
"No. Just a headache or somethin'  
  
"I mean, we could stop. I don't mind." For once the teasing tone was absent from Dean's voice. He turned his eyes back to the road for a moment, and then looked at Sam again. "Yeah, I'm…I'm gonna stop, you're just about out on your feet."  
  
Sam didn't argue.

Dean turned in at the first motel they came to. It was dingy and rundown, but the room was clean and the bed looked very inviting.   
  
Sam moved to sit on the bed, rubbing his face with his uninjured hand. He he was developing a sick headache. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.  
  
"Hey, why don't you pop one of those pills the doctor gave you?" Dean suggested as he stowed their bags under a dresser against the wall. He hunkered down and unzipped the duffel, taking the salt out and liberally sprinkling salt lines at the door and windows.  
  
Sam nodded, taking the small bottle out of his pocket. He shook a couple of the pills into the palm of his hand. After looking at the tablets for a moment, he shook his head and put them back into the bottle. "I don't think I should do that," he said. "What if this headache is some kind of sign? Maybe I'm gonna have a vision; maybe the demon is somewhere near. I don't want to be medicated and no use to you if something happens."  
  
"Okay," Dean said. "But I don't think anything's going to happen. I think you're havin' a delayed reaction or something." He gestured at Sam's arm, heavily swathed in the clean, white cast. "We shoulda had that seen to earlier." He frowned. "Fact is, I'd forgotten about it until I grabbed your arm at the diner." He met Sam's eyes. "Sorry."  
  
"Forget it." Sam said. He took off his shoes and lay down on the bed. _Sorry for forgetting my arm was hurt, but not sorry for screwing with my head last night,_  he thought dismally. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyelids but he fiercely fought them back. A moment later, he felt the bed sag with his brother's weight as Dean joined him. Sam opened his eyes. Dean was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. He'd taken off his jacket and shirt. Swallowing hard, Sam allowed his eyes to wander, drinking in the flat planes of Dean's belly, lean and well muscled. His eyes trailed upwards to Dean's ribs and he sat up with an exclamation. "Dean! What the hell is that?"  
  
"What?" Dean glanced at Sam, mildly alarmed and then following his brother's gaze to his ribs, "Oh that?" He smiled. "It's nothing, a scratch."  
  
"Scratch?" Sam looked incredulous. "That's a gash, Dean! What the hell happened to you?"  
  
Shaking his head, Dean gently pushed Sam away when he made to touch the ugly red cut on his side. "I had a…discussion with someone in the bar last night…over a game of pool."  
  
"Someone knifes you, and you call it a  _discussion_?"  
  
"Lay off, Sam!" Dean's voice was edged with irritation. "I said it's nothing!"  
  
"The hell it's…" Sam got off the bed, heading for the bathroom. "You should clean it up, at least."  
  
"Sam. Leave it!" Dean got to his feet and grabbed for his brother's arm. "I'm all right," he insisted and then added with a smirk. "I'm a lot tougher than…"  
  
What happened next, took them both by surprise. Sam swung around, shrugging Dean's hand off his arm. "I'm getting fucking sick of you digging me about being soft!" He swung his arm and the cast connected with the side of Dean's face with a resounding crack.   
  
Dean reeled, grabbing at his head with both hands. For a moment, all he could see were stars, and when they cleared, all he saw was red. He muttered a curse, lunging at his brother and they scuffled. Sam fought hard, but Dean was the stronger of them and he slammed Sam hard against the wall, pinning him there.

" _Fuck_  you!" Dean snarled. "That friggin' hurt!"  
  
"What's the matter, you getting soft, Dean?" Sam sneered in reply.  
  
Dean yanked him away from the wall and swung him around throwing Sam down on the bed before he straddled him. He growled, balling a fist, ready to punch Sam in the mouth, but Sam was too quick, bucking his hips and using the advantage of surprise to flip Dean onto his back. He pinned his brother with his weight, the cast on his right arm pressed hard against Dean's windpipe. He leaned close, inches from Dean's face. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it, huh?" Sam's breath was ragged and he bore down on Dean's throat with his injured arm.   
  
Dean's throat worked convulsively against the cast pressing on his windpipe. His airway was not completely cut off, but it was damn close. He stared up into the angry green eyes of his baby brother and parted his lips to speak. Before he could say a word though, Sam had pressed down harder on his throat. Dean coughed, his eyes going wide. "S…Sam?" he gasped. "Hey, Sammy?" He brought his hands up, trying to ease the pressure on his throat. "You're…choking me," he said.  
  
"I ought to _kill_ you," Sam muttered. His eyes were dark with anger and his breath gusted against Dean's face. Dean closed his eyes and let his hands fall away from Sam's arm. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do it, then," he whispered.  
  
After a moment, Sam let up the pressure a little and Dean ventured to open his eyes. Sam's face was still mere inches from his own, and his eyes were wide and dark, but the anger had faded. Dean stared up at him, not daring to move or speak. He and Sam had had their differences, what brothers didn't? But Dean had never felt such violent rage from his brother before. He lay very still and for once, held his tongue, waiting for Sam to decide what he was going to do.  
  
When Sam's mouth sought his, Dean closed his eyes and surrendered with a groan of mingled relief and need.  _God, yeah, Sam._  He let his body go limp, offering no resistance and giving himself into the kiss with complete abandon.   
  
When Sam drew back, Dean reached for him, placing his hands either side of his brother's face and pulling him back down, kissing him, open mouthed, tracing across Sam's lips with his tongue and delving into the younger man's mouth with a soft cry of need when Sam opened to him.   
  
They rolled together on the bed, till Dean was on top, and all the while he kept up the teasing, open mouthed kisses, not allowing Sam time to catch his breath, using his tongue, his teeth, his lips in a continual teasing assault on his brother's mouth and senses.  _Not letting you get away this time,_  he thought distractedly. "I want you, Sam," he said between kisses. "Want this…so much." He accompanied the words with a grinding roll of his hips against Sam's groin, eliciting a sharp cry from his brother.  
  
Sam tore his mouth away, gasping for air. He shook with the intensity of the rage he had felt just moments before, white-hot anger which was quickly being swamped by feelings no less passionate. He let the fingers of his uninjured hand graze along Dean's ribs and lower, to rest against Dean's hip, his fingers just edging under the waistband of his jeans. He didn't understand what was happening to them, and he didn't want to examine it too closely. He closed his eyes, pulling Dean harder against him. "Don't tease me, Dean," he whispered. "I want it, too."  
  
Time seemed to stand still around them for a moment before Dean claimed his brother's mouth again, kissing him deep and hard. He broke the kiss long enough to help Sam to get out of his jacket and shirt and then kissed his mouth again before breaking away, trailing kisses down Sam's throat to his collar bone. Dean flicked his tongue out, tracing across the heated skin from the base of Sam's throat to his shoulder and back again, ending with a playful nip when he got back to the centre.  
  
Sam arched his back, crying out, Dean's action telling him that he remembered that tentative kiss weeks ago when Sam had asked Dean to share his bed. He whimpered as Dean's teasing mouth made a trail of licks, nips and kisses down to the front of his jeans, and Dean quickly undid the button, hooking his fingers into the waistband and managing to divest Sam of both jeans and shorts.  _He's gotta have done this before,_ Sam thought, and then yelped with pleasure when Dean's fingers closed around the shaft of his cock. Dean held him for a moment, and then, slowly began to stroke him. Sam managed to prise his eyes open, looking down the length of his body. He groaned.   
  
Surely there was no hotter sight in this life, than to watch your own brother jerking you off, his lips hovering teasingly close to the weeping head of your dick, breath blowing in warm gusts across the tip. "God, Dean…" Sam panted, "So fucking hot!"  
  
Dean looked up at him and his lips broke into a shit eating grin an instant before he ducked his head and Sam's world exploded into fragments as Dean sucked him deep into his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> And all I can taste is this moment  
>  And all I can breathe is your life  
> And sooner or later it's over  
> I just don't want to miss you tonight  
> Iris - Goo Goo Dolls_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning:** This chapter (and probably others in this story) contains scenes of self-harm. Be safe.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Timeline: Simon Said

The tip of the large hunting knife pierced the skin just below the third rib and a line of blood welled from the wound, running down to be caught on Dean's fingertips.   
  
Panting for breath, hissing with pain, he let his head fall back against the leather seat and his eyes slipped closed as he drew the knife in a short, deep line across his skin. His blood was warm and slippery on the fingers of his other hand. He laid the knife aside and pressed both hands over the cut.  _Bleed,_ he told himself.  _Feel it. It hurts, doesn't it?_  His heart raced and his breath came short and fast between parted lips.   
  
After a few minutes, a deep sense of calm and peace wrapped itself around him. The pain had subsided and the flow of blood had ceased, but he felt…alive. _It's the only time I feel really alive. This, and when I hunt and when…_  Dean swallowed hard, letting out a breath. _W_ _hen Sam kisses me.  
_  
Most of the time, he felt numb, separated from reality, out of it; it was like when he'd been out of his body. He could see himself going through the motions of life, eating, sleeping, driving the Impala, and talking to people. It was weird. It felt wrong, and the only way he could find some form of clarity was in letting his own blood or someone else's; or in bed, holding Sam, feeling the heat of him, listening to Sam's moans of pleasure.  
  
Dean passed his tongue across his lips and rolled his head to the side.  _Where the hell is he, anyhow? How long does it take him to use the goddamn bathroom?_  He pulled his bloodied hands away from the cut and pulled his t-shirt down over the two livid gashes on his side. He wiped off the blade of the knife on a piece of cloth he took from the back seat, and did his best to clean his hands.  _I'd better go see what he's doin'._

 

  
  
 _Blood, so much blood._  Sam's stomach heaved at the memory of the vision. He leaned over the basin and turned on the tap, running cold water to splash on his face. There was a gunshot, and blood spattered the dirty white porcelain. Sam groaned and closed his eyes. _It's not real, it's just a vision. My head feels like it's gonna explode!_   With a shaking hand, he caught the running water and splashed it on his face.   
  
"C'mon, Sam, zip it up! Let's hit the…" Dean's voice; it helped-centred him. Sam splashed more water and looked up, meeting his brother's eyes in the mirror.   
  
"Bro?" Dean's eyes quickly scanned the washroom, alert for trouble. Seeing nothing, he looked at Sam. "What?"  
  
"Vision," Sam gasped.  _Blood…gotta stop him._  He straightened up with an effort, wiping his face and turned to face Dean. "Dean, we gotta get to the roadhouse. Somethin's gonna happen and we have to find out where and stop it!" Sam moved towards the door and Dean stepped aside.  
  
"Okay, wait in the car. I just need to…wash up."  
  
###  
  
Well, it turned out to be a hunt all right. Not the greatest hunt Dean had ever been on, and certainly not some of his finest moments. He cringed inwardly, recalling his 'spill all' antics when Andy commanded him to "Tell. The. Truth." It made him wanna curl up in a ball and hide.  _And giving the dude the Impala? Without so much as a 'seriously'?_   Dean shook his head.  _Fuck, he was good at that mind control shit.  
_  
Not as good as Anson, though. Dean frowned.  ** _He_** _had me all set to blow my own brains out. If Andy hadn't shot him when he did…_  The hunt for the psychic twins had been okay, but Dean hadn't been in at the kill. He kinda regretted that.  
  
He glanced over at Sam who was still sleeping. They'd had to take separate beds last night, given they'd spent the night in the roadhouse.  _I suppose Sam's right about keepin' things on the level here,_  Dean thought, but he had to admit, he'd missed the warmth of Sam's body close to his.  
  
The strange part was Sam didn't seem to have nightmares when he slept here.  
  
Dean sighed and sat up. Although they'd tracked down the psychic freak twins, and stopped Anson from killing anyone else, Dean was frustrated that there had still been no sign of demonic activity. He was itching for a good hunt and to get within striking distance of that yellow-eyed bastard. He glanced at Sam and was mildly surprised to see his brother was awake and watching him. Dean smiled. "Hey," he said. "You finally decided to surface."  
  
Sam blinked sleepily a couple of times then rolled onto his back. He yawned and stretched and Dean watched him, drinking in the sight as the lean, muscled body, tensed and then relaxed again. He licked his lips and stood up, moving to sit on Sam's bed. "You don't even realise how sexy you look when you do that, do ya?" He smiled into Sam's eyes and leaned down, stealing a quick kiss.  
  
Sam pushed him away, glancing towards the door. "Dean, quit it!" he said softly. "You know where we are."  
  
"Mm-hmm," another stolen kiss "What's the problem?"  
  
"What if someone comes in? Jo or…" Sam's words were cut off by a slower kiss and he made a small sound in the back of his throat.  
  
Dean pulled back and looked into Sam's eyes. "No one's gonna come in here, Sam. The door's locked and Ellen'll make sure anyone in the place respects our privacy." Dean reached under the covers, running his hand down over Sam's belly until he encountered his brother's hardness. "You know I can make you feel real good," he whispered seductively.  
  
"Not  _here!_ " Sam pushed him away determinedly this time and sat up. He met his brother's eyes. "Look, I donno what's goin' on here, with us." He looked away, bowing his head. "I can't say I don't like it," he went on, "but I don't think it's okay, either and…"  
  
"Of course it's okay," Dean cut in. "We're not hurtin' anyone. We're not flaunting it in front of people we're not…"  
  
"That doesn't make it right, Dean, and you know it."  
  
"Last time I looked, you and me were both dudes," Dean countered. "I think the rules about this kinda thing apply more to a guy and a girl. After all, they can produce a monster if things get outta hand." Dean sighed at the look his brother gave him in response to that. "Okay, so maybe it  _is_  wrong, but since when did we let right and wrong get in the way of what we do? You said it yourself a few days ago, Sam. Our lives are weird."  
  
Sam sighed. "Yeah."  
  
"Besides, this way it's better. No one gets hurt." Dean laid a hand on his brother's arm. "The things we do, the places we go…the danger, we've lost too many people, Sam. Mom, Dad, Jessica…why run the risk of exposing someone else to that danger? At least we both understand what we're getting into."  
  
Sam closed his eyes, and Dean knew that he'd won. He pressed his advantage home with a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean Winchester stormed out of the bar with his brother close on his heels. "I can't believe you even said that, Sam!" He shot his brother a look over his shoulder. "What'd you say it for anyway?"  
  
Sam laughed. "What's your problem, Bro? It's not like I never called you a control freak before." He made his way to the passenger side of the Impala and waited for Dean to let him in. "C'mon, man! It's cold out here," he complained when Dean took his own sweet time.   
  
They drove in silence back to their hotel and Dean stalked into the room without a word, almost smacking Sam in the face with the door which he kicked shut behind him.  
  
"Hey!" Sam scowled. "Get over it, will ya? You don't seriously think any of those guys was interested!"  
  
"I'll never know now, will I?" Dean rounded on the younger Winchester and his brows drew together as realization dawned. "You did that on purpose!" he said. He stalked Sam, closing the distance between them. "You're jealous!"  
  
"Of what?" Sam was still laughing, and Dean wanted to knock the grin off his face. He ground his teeth and turned away. Taking off his jacket, he tossed it over the back of a chair. "You can't stand the thought that I might get a chance at some nookie with someone other than you."  
  
"Oh go to hell," Sam shook his head. "I'm not jealous. There was nothin' to be jealous of!" He paused, "except, maybe the fact that they have some kind of normalcy in their lives."  
  
"That again?" Dean sighed. "You know we can't have that, Sammy."  
  
"Yeah, right. The family business-everything has to be kept in the _family_." Sam's tone was bitter.

Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to get into this just now. "You wanna walk away, Sammy? Go on and do it. I won't stop you." Dean sank down on the end of the bed. "I'm just as tired of this shit as you are."  
  
"Oh, sure-and you won't stop huntin' and you'll get your sorry ass killed and I'll have to live with that. Thanks, but no thanks. I have enough guilt to carry around without that." Sam turned away and Dean heaved a sigh, dragging himself to his feet. He moved to his brother's side, laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I'd just like to feel a little bit of what normal is-just for a little while," Sam whispered.   
  
"I know, Sammy. You think I don't want that, too?" Dean swallowed hard and let out a breath. "You're all I've got left."  
  
"Did it ever occur to you, that it's the same for me?" Suddenly angry, Sam rounded on him. "Do you ever even consider that when you go and take stupid risks? When you shut me out, when you continuously push me away and refuse to talk to me about…"  
  
Dean swung away with a short, bitter laugh. "Don't do this, Sam!"  
  
"Yeah, that amuses you, doesn't it, you selfish son of a bitch!"  
  
"It's fucking stupid to talk about not taking risks, man! Our whole lives are just one risk after another!"  
  
"You  _know_  what I mean!" Sam yelled and pointed to the door. "There's stuff out there that we should never go near! We shouldn't have got anywhere near that reaper! Fuck, Dean I nearly lost you twice in the one week!"  
  
"Hey! I didn't go after that chick, dude;  _she_  came looking for me!"  
  
"What?" Sam took several steps closer to him. Right into his personal space. "You told me you didn't remember anything about that!"  
  
Dean swung away, and scrubbed the palm of one hand across his face.  _Fuck!_  
  
"What, so is lying to me something new Bro or is there more?"  
 _  
Yeah, there's more. There's a whole lot more, Sammy, but I ain't tellin' you that._  
  
Dean growled when his brother's fist connected with his shoulder. He balled his own fist and swung 'round. Sam punched him again, not hard, but it goaded him. "I'm warnin' you Bro," Dean muttered.  
  
"Of what?" Sam shoved him.  
  
"Don't go digging for things you don't need to know!"  
  
"I don't  _need_  you to protect me, Dean!" Sam shoved him again, harder and Dean stumbled backwards. He rebounded an instant later, shoving Sam in return. "All right, you have to know? Okay! Take a seat little brother. I'll tell you a bedtime story!" He shoved Sam onto the bed and loomed over him. When Sam attempted to get back up, Dean got right in his face. "I swear to God, Sammy, you don't siddown I'm gonna knock you down!"  
  
"Back off!" Sam scowled, but he stayed on the bed.  
  
Dean drew a deep breath struggling to rein in the dark anger he felt boiling in his gut. "Okay," he said with a sigh. "I do remember." He met his brother's eyes. "We were out on the road in the Impala. Dad was with us. We were cruising and talking and it was… you know, just family, it was okay."  
  
Frowning at him, Sam shook his head. "Okay and our family are a million miles apart _,"_  he said. "Go on."  
  
"I think I remember hittin' my head. It didn't hurt that much. I thought something might have hit us. The next thing I know I wake up in bed, and I'm thirsty. That's the first thing I thought of, was how thirsty I was. So…I'm looking around and I get the feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Dean smirked.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "Fuck, Dean, do you have to bring everything down to comic book level?"  
  
"It's my story, Sammy, I'll tell it how I like and you can shut your cakehole!" Sam nodded and Dean went on.  
  
"I got out of bed to try and find a glass of water. I was lookin' for you and dad, too-calling you. It all gets a little hazy from there on. I don't know if I remember it in the right order." Dean frowned in thought for a moment and then told Sam of how he had wandered the hallways, trying to get someone's attention and eventually gone back to his room.   
  
"It was weird, Sam. I was standing there, looking at myself lying in that bed and I wanted back in there. I wanted that, but I couldn't figure out how to do it. There was some kinda wall or something I couldn't see it, but I could sure as hell feel it; a resistance that I couldn't push through." He closed his eyes. "Then I saw you come in and I was talking to you." He looked up, meeting his brother's eyes. "For a dude who says he's psychic, you sure had on a good case of normal that day. I couldn't make you hear me! You wouldn't look at me. All you did was stand beside my bed, starin' and cryin'." Shakes his head.   
  
"I don't _say_ I'm psychic, asshole. I just see things," Sam replied.  
  
"Yeah…whatever. When you weren't cryin' over my broken body," Dean placed a hand over his heart as he spoke. "You were yellin' and cussin dad out." He scowled at his baby brother.   
  
Sam bowed his head, avoiding eye contact. "I'm not proud of that, Dean. If I'd known…"  
  
"I was there in the room when you were fighting. You asked him 'what kind of a father are you?' I yelled at you both to quit! There was something big going on, and all you two could do was cuss each other. I got so goddamned mad I slammed my fist into the glass of water on dad's table and sent that mother flying to the floor. You remember that?"  
  
"I saw the tumbler smash," Sam replied.  
  
"Yeah, and even then you still didn't get it!"  
  
"Fuck, Dean, it was a glass of water, what was there to get? I didn't know that was you! I dunno, maybe I thought I did it." He rubbed at his eyes, keeping his head down.  
  
Dean shrugged and closed his eyes. "Anyway, right after that I felt something pulling at me. I felt phased out. I was…"  _scared_. "I didn't know what was happening to me. Then alarms started going off out in the hallway and dad told you to go see what was going on."  
  
"Yeah, I remember that," Sam said. His eyes darkened with pain and he swallowed hard.  
  
"I went with you," Dean went on. "I wanted to see what was happening and besides, I was being pulled in that direction anyway. We got to my room. You were ahead of me, and I came up beside you. You thought no-one could hear. You were being quiet, but I heard you, Sammy." Dean paused and bit his lip. "You were holding onto the door post, leaning against it, and you were saying… 'Dean, Dean, please, c'mon, Dean.'" He closed his eyes, felt his heart wrench with the remembered pain in Sam's voice.  
  
"You heard that?" Sam's voice was soft with awe.  
  
Dean nodded, tears welling to his eyes. "I heard you as clear as if you were yelling, Sammy. And that's when I saw her. It was fuckin' freaky, man! All these doctors and nurses around the bed, working on the body-my body-and this thing hovering over me with its hand inside my chest, squeezing my heart so it wouldn't beat."  
  
"Holy shit," Sam muttered.  
  
"I got pissed. That bitch was tryin' to fucking kill me. I ran at her and I yelled: get away from me! She just kept squeezing my heart, so I made a grab for her. I screamed I SAID GET BACK!"  
  
Sam swallowed. "So that was you? I thought I heard…"  
  
As though he hadn't heard, Dean continued the story. "She looked at me, and then...man...then she swung her arm and slammed me back against the wall. I've never been hit like that in my life. It knocked all the strength right out of me. And then, she left." Dean sank down in a chair, rubbing his face with both hands.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dean. I…we…didn't know."  
  
"It didn't end there, Sammy boy." Dean raised reddened eyes to his brother's face. "I saw her take two others. A beautiful young woman-she choked to death right in front of me, and I couldn't do a damned thing! And then…the worst one. A little girl."  
  
Both brothers were silent for several minutes, each alone with his personal memories and pain from that fraught time in the hospital. Dean got to his feet, pacing the room a few times and then he turned to look at Sam.   
  
"She came back to me, after that. She'd changed her form, appeared to me as a pretty young girl named Tessa. I didn't realize it, at first, but she eventually gave herself away." He sighed. "I bargained for my life, Sammy. I told her you and dad needed me, that we're fighting a war, that I couldn't leave…she wouldn't hear any of my arguments. She just looked at me with these big sad eyes and said: 'The war is over for you, Dean.' I should've listened to her. I should have gone with her right then and there. Hell, she was just doin' her job. That was her hospital."  
  
"No!" Sam jumped to his feet. "Don't talk like that, Dean! It was not your time, we didn't ask for this, this is Dad's war, not ours! We just got caught up in it, and it'll never end!"  
  
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Dean rounded on him. "She was…she was pure, Sam! She was good…she…" He choked and looked away.  
  
"So now I owe you, is that it? You missed your chance in heaven so you could stay with me?"  
  
"No." Dean shook his head vehemently. "She was so beautiful and then that bastard got inside of her and…twisted her into something evil…vile. Because of me!"  
  
"It wasn't your fault," Sam countered. "You did what you had to do."  
  
"No, Sam. What I had to do right then, was die. If I'd gone with her the first time, or even the second, dad would still be alive, and Tessa wouldn't have been possessed."  
  
"And I'd be alone," Sam murmured.  
  
"You wouldn't be alone, Sam. Dad would be here."  
  
"Oh come on, Dean! Dad has never been there, he's been at war all of my life. You know he and I wouldn't have lasted five minutes without you to keep us from fighting. No. I'd be alone, and so would he…you did the right thing, Dean."  
  
"I'm not so sure of that, Sammy." Dean said. "Ever since then…there's something dark inside of me. When he possessed her, Tessa turned and put her hand on my head. 'It's your lucky day, kid,' she said...I felt it touch me...deep inside."  
  
"No…"  
  
"It was…power," Dean's voice trembled. "We can't stand up against that kind of power, Sam. Not without dad and not without the colt. The Demon knew it, too. He said a million things to me in a split second and then I woke up and I knew…it's too late." He met his brother's eyes. "Dead things should stay dead."  
  
"You're not dead!"  
  
"It's all so simple in your world, isn't it, Sammy?"  
  
"Look, it's time to move on, Dean! What happened happened. You're here now and Dad's gone and we've got to finish the job for him. There's a sack full of ways to end it right now, if that's what you want!" he said, pointing to the bag of weapons on the floor.  
  
"I can't," Dean said. He remembered their father's last words to him.   
 __  
"I want you to promise me you'll look out for Sammy."  
  
"Yeah, dad, you know I will."  
  
John Winchester leaned close to his eldest son's ear, whispering. "Save him, Dean, if you can. If you can't, though…you'll have to kill him."  
  
"I'm stuck here now, until the end."  
  
"Then fucking live!" Sam muttered.  
  
Turning empty eyes to Sam, Dean nodded. "I'll try." **  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> Anger and agony  
>  Are better than misery   
> Trust me I've got a plan   
> When the lights go off you will understand _
> 
> _Pain, without love  
>  Pain, I can't get enough   
> Pain, I like it rough   
> 'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all   
> Pain, without love   
> Pain, I can't get enough   
> Pain, I like it rough   
> 'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing   
> Rather feel pain _
> 
> _I know (I know) I know (I know) I know  
>  That you're wounded   
> You know (You know) you know (you know)   
> That I'm here to save you   
> You know (You know) you know (you know)   
> I'm always here for you   
> I know (I know) I know (I know) I know   
> That you'll thank me later.  
> Three Days Grace - Pain_

Sam Winchester was hurting. It was an ache that had been with him for days. Ever since Dean had told him in vivid detail, his side of the story of what happened while Dean was dying in the hospital. It hurt to think that Dean had witnessed those arguments with John. It was bad enough, carrying the guilt of the way he had treated their father, without knowing that he had hurt Dean at the same time.  
  
Sam looked at his brother across the table. Dean was absorbed in the local paper, scanning the pages for any signs of unusual activity.  _Looking for another hunt, another excuse to push the real issues further under the rug._  Sam sighed and Dean glanced up from the paper.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Hmm." Dean's eyes flicked back to the page he was reading.  
  
Muttering a curse, Sam got up and left the diner. He walked over to the Impala and leaned his forearms on the shiny black roof of the car. Biting his lips he stared out across an open field opposite the mom and pop establishment that had served them for lunch. _I can't take much more of this_ , he thought.  _I need him to let me in. I can't cope when he opens up a chink like that and then slams it shut in my face again. I'm gonna go mad before long_.  
  
"Yo, Sam!" Dean's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "I got a call from Ellen. We're movin'," Dean said, climbing into the Impala and starting her up.  
  
"Right." Sam got into the car. He winced when Dean pushed a cassette into the deck, blasting the cabin with Metallica. The music was too loud to allow for conversation, so Sam decided to bide his time. They were at least two days away from the Roadhouse anyway. There'd be opportunities to pin Dean down.  
  
\--  
  
"Did Ellen say what this is about?" They had stopped to buy sandwiches for dinner and sat in the Impala outside the Sip'n'Go.  
  
Dean looked over at Sam and then shook his head. "No. She just told me that we had better bust ass over to her place," he replied. "He glanced back at the submarine sandwich he held in his hands and grimaced. "At least we might get a decent meal there." He stuffed the sandwich back into its wrapper.   
  
Sam grinned. "I told you you shoulda gone with the ham and cheese." He offered his brother half of the sandwich he was eating.  
  
"Thanks," Dean bit into the sandwich and made an appreciative sound. "You were right," he conceded.  
  
"It's almost dark." Sam looked towards the setting sun. "Maybe we oughta find a place to spend the night."  
  
"I do declare, you just propositioned me," Dean grinned and then sobered at the look Sam gave him. "Geeze, lighten up!" he shook his head. Yeah, we'll get out of town a little, find a motel." Finished with the sandwich, Dean brushed crumbs off the front of his shirt and turned the key in the ignition.   
  
The motel was just like any of a thousand they must've stayed in over the years. Maybe they'd even stayed in this one before, Sam thought as he looked around the room.  _Definitely not in this room though_. He eyed the king-sized bed with a raised eyebrow, looking askance at Dean when he came in with their bags.  
  
"It was only five dollars more than a single per night," Dean explained. "I figured I'd give your lanky ass some space for a change."  
  
"Huh!" Sam scoffed. "I'm not lanky. I'm just…"  
  
"Lanky," Dean finished, shoving his brother out of his way. "I call first shower and I'm sleepin' closest to the door!"  
  
"Dammit," Sam lunged after Dean, and grabbed the back of his jacket. "You can have the door, but _I'm_  showering first!"  
  
They scuffled playfully until Dean relented. "All right, get your  _lanky_  ass into the shower," he said, still laughing.  
  
  
\--  
  
Somewhere in the night, Dean woke, heart racing, senses twitching. He'd heard, or felt something-couldn't place it. He got up on his elbows, looking around the room. Sam wasn't beside him. Dean frowned, glanced towards the bathroom. "Sam?"  
  
There was the sound of movement off to his left. Reaching under his pillow, Dean closed his fingers around the butt of the Glock. "Who's there?" he demanded, cocking the pistol, levelling it in the direction of the sounds.  
  
"Whoa!" Sam's voice replied. "Easy Dean, you don't need to smoke my ass!"  
  
"What the hell are you doing sitting over there in the dark?" Relaxing his defensive posture, Dean disarmed the pistol and put it down. "Might've killed you!" He chided.  
  
"I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to disturb you," Sam said. He moved to sit on the bed. "You should get some more rest."  
  
"So should you." Dean looked at him pointedly. "C'mon." He patted the pillow next to his own, his tone brooking no argument.  
  
Sam lay down, but he showed no signs of being ready to sleep. Lying on his back, he turned his head to look at his brother. "Dean?"  
  
"Yeah?" The elder Winchester blinked his eyes open again, focussing on Sam's face close to his. He half smiled. "What is it?"  
  
"I can't stop thinkin', you know, about the other night. About…the things you told me."  
  
Dean drew a deep breath and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "See, this is why I don't wanna do this, Sam. You say you wanna talk, and then after we talk, you obsess over it for a week!"  
  
"I know it bugs you, dude. You think it's any easier on me? I just don't have the ability to shrug things off the way you do!"  
  
"It's easy; you give your brain something else to work with."  
  
Sam shook his head, closing his eyes. "It's not that simple, Dean," he said. "We didn't talk, anyway. You talked and I listened. I didn't get the chance to voice my side of things."  
  
"Jesus, Sammy, let it rest!" Dean got up off the bed and went to the mini bar, pulling out a can of beer. He popped the can and thudded down in a chair. "You're payin' for this," He waved the can in Sam's direction. "You wanna drive me t'drink, you can foot the bill."  
  
"Ya know, in the real world? The one outside this room, the one that  _most_  people live and move and work in, my needin' to talk about the shit that's happened to us lately would be normal…it'd be encouraged." Sam moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing his brother. "Can't you even give me that much?"  
  
Dean glared at Sam and took a slug of the beer. It was bitter in the back of his throat and he shivered a little. "I told you, I can't give you 'normal,' Sam. I don't know what that is. Our normal might be different to the rest of the world. I hunt, I kill things that other people never even imagine, and I look out for you. I can't be your fucking _counselor_ too!"  
  
Bowing his head, Sam knuckled his eyes. _I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing that got to me!_ He furiously fought back the threatening tears. He took a deep breath and got to his feet. "Yeah, you hunt, and you look out for me…you fucking save the world every day of the week. Hooray for the big man, Dean Winchester-All hail the mighty fucking warrior who's so strong and brave that he can't face a normal fucking  _conversation_  about…" Sam trailed off as Dean scrambled to his feet, facing off to him. "What?" He sneered at Dean. "Gonna let your fists do your talking for you? What else is new?"  
  
Dean backed off a pace or two, shaking his head. "So help me, Sam…"  
  
"Oh, c'mon then, if that's the way you want it." Sam lashed out with his left fist, connecting a solid punch with Dean's arm. "I can take you, even with my arm in a cast!" Sam lunged again, this punch catching Dean on the cheek.  
  
"Arright, that's it!" Dean shoved him. "Y'liitle shit! I promised Dad I'd look out for you, but there's a limit, even to my patience!"  
  
"So I'm a little shit, now? A few hours ago, you were calling me lanky." There was no humor in this jibe, Sam swung, and would have caught Dean a good one had his brother not ducked. Slightly off balance, Sam stumbled, but used the momentum to his advantage, ducking low and tackling his brother to the floor.  
  
"Dammit, get offa me!" Dean yelled, struggling to get loose.   
  
"I'm sick of it, ya hear me? Sick of the whole sorry fucking mess this has become." Sam punched Dean in the face, repeating the blow, keeping his injured hand out of it, but landing heavy punches on Dean's face.   
  
Dean didn't fight back. He lay passively on the floor, protecting his face the best he could with his forearms.  _Keep it comin' Bro, get me good and mad and then I might just forget about my promise to Dad._  
  
"They think we're freaks! I see it in people's eyes. Ellen, Jo, Ash-they all think we're…" Sam's blows grew weaker, but his temper was no less heated. He pulled his fist back for another shot.  
  
 _Enough!_  Dean reacted suddenly, lashing out, catching Sam across the bridge of his nose with his forearm. "I said get off me!" he snarled.  
  
Sam reeled backwards, put a hand to his nose as tears streamed from his eyes. "Bastard!" He sobbed.  
  
"Fucking psycho!" Dean stared up at his brother. "You wanna kill me, Sam? I already told you once, do it. Only you'd better do a damned good job, cause if you don't…"  
  
"Asshole! Just leave me the _fuck_ alone."  
  
"I'm not the one who threw the first punch, Sam! You wanna get rough, I'll take you anytime you like. He rolled flipping Sam onto his back and straddling him. "This way-or moaning on your hands and knees." Dean started to unbutton Sam's shirt.  
  
"What?" Sam struggled. "No that's not what I…"  
  
"Don't fucking lie to me, Sam. You want it as much as I do…can't recall forcing you, ever!" He grabbed at Sam's hands when his brother tried to push him away. Leaning forward he pinned Sam's hands to the floor above his head. "There's no normal for us, Sammy. We missed the last bus to Dullsville." He swooped to lick a fleck of blood from Sam's bitten lips.  
  
" _Fuck_ , Dean!" Sam's struggles became earnest now. "Let me up!"  
  
"Okay…" Dean let go Sam's wrists and rolled off him, moving to sit on the floor, shoulders against the side of the bed. He let his head fall back, and closed his eyes.  
  
"Even this," Sam said after a moment. "This thing between us-why's it always have to be so angry?"  
  
"'Cause we're just a couple of angry young men," Dean replied. "You know I don't do chick flick moments, Sammy."  
  
"It hurts, Dean." Sam wiped at his bleeding lip, pressing to stem the bleeding.  
  
"What?" Dean's head snapped around and he stared at his brother. "Whaddya mean? I'd never intentionally hurt you…well; apart from beating your ugly face in when you deserve it." He dropped the half joking tone. "Fuck, Sam if I hurt you when we…when...well…you fucking didn't  _say so!"_  
  
"I didn't want to say anything. I…was afraid you'd break the only physical contact we have, if I did."  
  
"Ah, fuck, Sam!" Dean palmed his face.   
  
"Don't tell me you don't know I need it as much as you do!" Sam got to his knees, reaching out to touch Dean's face.  
  
"I know…" Dean closed his eyes. "I know, we both need that side of things in some…crazy way. Not if it hurts you, though."  
  
"We're both screwed up, Dean." Sam sighed, hitching closer to his brother. "Just once," he whispered. "Without knockin' the shit out of each other first, without bein' off our heads on booze."  
  
Dean turned his face away. "You want me to treat you like a girl, dude?"  
  
"No." Sam sighed, shook his head. "Just forget it, Dean."  
  
"Look, I know I'm an asshole," Dean said. "I know I say things that get under your skin, I know I act in ways you wish I wouldn't."  _Fuck, this is gettin' way too soppy_! "I can't help the way I am, Bro. Dad-you know-he brought us up rough. I know he used to knock you around when you were a kid. He did me, too. He had to Sammy. He knew what we'd have to face and he wanted us strong. I don't know any other way."  
  
"You're right," Sam replied. "You know what? Just forget I said anything. Okay?" He climbed onto the bed.   
  
"Fine," Dean said, closing his eyes. "I'll forget it, if you insist." Getting to his feet, he stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He glanced up and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Staring into his own eyes, he frowned. _Who are you? I don't even know you anymore._  
  
When Dean came out of the bathroom, Sam was in bed, rolled up in the covers with his back to the door. Dean glanced at him and then looked towards the door. Picking up his jacket from the chair he'd slung it over, he pulled his car keys out of the pocket.  
  
"Where you goin'?" Sam asked and Dean stopped on his way to the door, half turning back towards the bed. "I uh…I got something I gotta do," he said. When there was no reply, Dean walked to the door. "I won't be long." He let himself out, closing the door softly behind him. **  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> I spoke to you in cautious tones  
>  You answered me with no pretense   
> And still I feel I said too much   
> My silence is my self defense  
> And so it goes, Billy Joel_
> 
> * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning: Rough sex bordering on non-con ahead.**
> 
> * * *

Sam lay in bed for a few minutes after Dean had gone, but then something made his senses tingle uncomfortably. He'd distinctly heard Dean take the car keys out of his pocket before he left the room, but Sam had not heard the engine start up, or the customary howling of tires to announce Dean's departure. He sat up, frowning at the door for a moment, then, muttering to himself, he reached for his shoes and socks.

\--  
  
Dean walked out of the motel room and moved to stand beside the Impala. He smiled, running his hands over the shiny black paintwork. She was a work of art, and probably in better condition since he'd rebuilt her than she had been in a while. "Hey, Baby," he whispered, putting the key into the lock and opening the door. Easing himself in behind the wheel, Dean ran a hand over the leather seat. Here's my sweet lady, huh?" he whispered. His hand slid down over the seat, reaching under where he was sitting, fingertips feeling for a bundle he had hidden there.  
  
"C'mon, sweetheart, let me have it," he coaxed. His fingers closed over the cloth wrapped object, and he drew it out, laying the bundle in his lap, he unwrapped it. Dean swallowed hard, staring at the large Bowie knife. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, mesmerized as the blade caught light from the motel car park, flashing silver-blue. He bit his lip and tugged at his shirt, baring his side.  
  
\--  
  
Fumbling, cursing in his haste, Sam struggled to get his shoes on and tie the laces  _C'mon, idiot, time's tickin'._  An odd sense of foreboding told him that Dean was in trouble, but commonsense told him he'd be no good barefoot if he had to run or walk any distance. He cursed, his fingers trembling.  _More haste and less speed, Sam, Get some focus!_  
  
"Fuck! What the hell are you askin' of him anyway?" Finally gets the shoe tied and moves to the other one. "Just a semblance of normalcy, Dean, is that too much to ask?"  
  
\--  
  
Dean ran his fingers lovingly along the blade and closed his eyes for a moment. Slowly, he brought the tip of the knife to the skin of his chest, a little below the two healing cuts he'd made previously. Cold metal on his skin. Dean sucked in a breath, tensing, applying pressure. His breath quickened and there was a burst of bright, white light behind his eyes as he felt the knife pierce him. He released a small cry of relief, letting his head fall back against the car seat. "Sssssshiiit!" He drew a short, straight, bloody line over his skin. He let out a shuddering breath. The knife fell from his slackened fingers.   
  
\--  
  
"Dean?" Sam stood at the open door of the hotel room, his eyes quickly scanning the parked cars. There didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. His eyes went to the impala, the driver's door was open, and Sam could dimly make out the form of his brother, low in the seat, head thrown back. Even from here, he could discern the rapid, harsh breathing. Sam yelled his brother's name making his way to the car.  
  
What he saw made him freeze in his tracks. Dean was bleeding from an ugly looking wound in his side. _Oh shit, he's been shot or…_  He raced to Dean's side, taking in the wound, the bloodied knife lying on top of a bloodstained cloth in his lap. Sam felt his blood run cold. "Fuck!"  
  
Dean's head rolled weakly on the seat. He made a sound like a sob. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Dad…so sorry…I can't..."  
  
"Dean!" Sam hunkered down beside the car, inspecting the damage. "Fuck, you're cutting? What kinda sick stunt? Oh fuck." Sam grabbed the cloth in Dean's lap and then tossed it aside.  _It's filthy!_  He took his own shirt off and pressed it against the wound. "You sick sonofabitch! What're you trying to do to me, Dean?"  
  
"Leave it alone, Sam!" Dean suddenly focussed on him. "Let it bleed…even better gimme some salt!"  
  
"What? No!" Sam grabbed Dean's arm and pulled. "Get out of the fucking car, Dean, Now!"  
  
"All right, all right," Dean's voice sounded a little slurred. "I'm feeling kinda sleepy…must've gone a little deep this time."  
  
Sam ground his teeth, saying nothing as he managed to get Dean to his feet, draping one of Dean's arms across his own shoulders. "Are you trying to make me crazy? Walk!" He half dragged, half carried Dean's bulky frame back into the motel. "Jesus, hell…fucking…" He got Dean into the bathroom and shoved him none too gently against the wall. "Wait there. I'll be back."  
  
"Hey, Sammy?" Dean called after him. "Go and lock the car, would ya?"  
  
Ignoring his damn fool brother, Sam made his way back out to the car, reaching into the back seat for the first aid kit. _I'll kill him…I swear…_ Sam pressed the locking mechanism and closed the door, making his way back to Dean, who had slumped down to the floor while Sam was gone.  
  
"Get up!" Sam grabbed his brother, roughly shaking him. "Come on, Dean. Sit here." He managed to get Dean sitting on the head. "Let me look at that cut."  
  
Dean leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall. He drew a sharp breath when Sam dabbed at the wound with cotton soaked with an antiseptic. He looked down, watching Sam work, and sang softly and off key. "When everything feels like the movies, yeah ya bleed just to know you're alive." He winced when Sam dabbed a little harder at the wound. "That song, Sammy, tha's'so fucking true."  
  
"Shut up, Dean."  
  
"It looks, deep, Dean noted, might want a stitch…"  
  
"It'll be fine, it just needs a dressing. Fuck, Dean all those other cuts…I thought they were from our hunts. How long have you been doing this?"  
  
"No…not that long," Dean shook his head. "Only…" he frowned.  
  
"This one," Sam said, ghosting his fingers over the cut he'd noticed a few days ago on Sam's chest. "And this? And this?" He glared up at Dean. "What the hell d'you think this achieves?"  
  
"It makes me feel…" Dean trailed off and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall again. "You wouldn't understand," he said. "I thought you woulda figured it out before now." Dean laughed softly. "All those times I deliberately stirred a fight. Hell, once I even came right out and asked you to hit me."  
  
"Yeah, like I would be lookin' for my brother to be cutting on himself. Sam scowled, cutting a strip of gauze and folding it into a pad before applying over the wound and securing it with tape. "There. That oughta hold it."  
  
"Thanks, nurse," Dean snarked.  
  
"Dean…" Sam got up on his knees "You know you scare the shit outta me when you pull crap like this?" He put a hand on Dean's cheek and leaned in to ghost a kiss across his brother's lips. "You're right, I don't understand. I don't get why you'd want to hurt yourself like this. He looked into Dean's eyes, searching for an answer but only saw empty sadness. Shadows of their lives. Reflections he didn't want to study. Shaking his head, Sam got up and pulled Dean to his feet. "Come on, let's get you to bed."  
  
Dean stood, but resisted when Sam tried to lead him to the bedroom. "Do that again, Sammy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Kiss me." Dean pulled him closer, seeking his mouth and gave a little moan when their lips met. He kissed Sam deep and hard, tongue probing his brother's mouth.   
  
Sam pulled away after a moment. "Don't leave me, Dean?"  
  
"I'm not goin' anywhere, Bro," Dean replied, except maybe the bedroom. No matter how sexy you are, Sam. I'm not gonna do you in a bathroom."  
  
Sam swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay, but…maybe you should rest a while? It must be painful, and you could reopen that wound, I…"  
  
"S'the way I want it, Sam."  
  
Letting out a long breath, Sam turned and walked into the bedroom with Dean behind him. He stopped when Dean's hands came to rest on his bare shoulders. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against Dean, moaning softly. Dean reached around Sam's waist and his hands roved over Sam's chest, fingernails lightly scraping over the bare flesh.   
  
Dean's breath was quick and hot against his skin and Sam felt he was drowning in sensation. He reveled in it, not knowing how long this gentle play would last before Dean's urgency took over. He turned in his brother's arms, pushing Dean back against the wall, kissing him hard. _Nothing to say I can't make a pre-emptive strike._  He drew his tongue along Dean's lower lip and thrust into his mouth when his brother opened to him.   
  
Dean groaned, eyes closed, tongue dancing with Sam's his cock hardening. He growled when Sam nudged his legs apart and pressed his thigh between them.  
  
"What is it you want, Dean?" Sam's hand was between them, palming Dean's cock through his jeans.  
  
"You know what I want," Dean said with a breathy moan, he pressed his hips forward seeking greater friction against Sam's hand.  
  
Sam needed no further encouragement. He growled, pushing Dean hard against the wall and kissed him while his fingers worked the button and fly of Dean's pants. He slipped his hand inside and grabbed hold of Dean's cock. "Feel good, Dean?"  
  
"Yeah, Sammy!" Dean's mouth hungrily attacked Sam's, tongues duelling, breath gusting hard and hot between them. "Stroke me," he whispered between kisses. He groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall as Sam stroked him, his hand moving slowly up and down the shaft.  
  
"Slow and easy, Dean," Sam murmured, nuzzling gently against Dean's neck. "Gonna make it last for ya, gonna make it good."   
  
"Huh!" Dean sobbed, thrusting into Sam's hand. "Don't think I can last, Sam…" He swallowed hard. "So hot for you!"  
  
Sam changed his angle, loosening his hold on Dean's cock a little, giving a twist of his wrist to sweep his thumb across the tip of the straining member, while he trailed kisses along Dean's jaw to his mouth.  
  
"Oh Fuck!" Dean said, and then muttered a string of filth against Sam's lips while his brother kissed him senseless.  
  
"Want you to fuck me, Dean," Sam whispered. "Want to feel you inside me… want you to…"  _Want you to feel alive, see you feel alive when we're like this, you feel this, Dean, that don't happen to dead people._  
  
With a growl, Dean tore his mouth away and shoved Sam towards the bed. "Love it when you talk like that." He watched, eyes wide and dark as Sam began to unfasten his belt. With a low growl, he stalked his baby brother, pushing him onto the bed and stripping him of jeans and boxers. "Get on your hands and knees," he said, his voice rough with need. "Close to the edge of the bed," he added and slipped two fingers into his mouth as Sam moved to comply. Dean sucked his fingers, making them good and wet and then laying one hand on Sam's hip; he pushed a finger into Sam's tight entrance, quickly adding the second.   
  
Sam cried out with surprise and pain screwing his eyes shut, trying to relax. "Dean…slow down…please…" he bit down on his lip when the only reply was a growl and Dean pulled his fingers away, pressing the tip of his cock to Sam's ass in their place. He sobbed, clawing at the bed clothes unable to smother his cry when Dean shoved into him roughly. He was given the barest respite to catch his breath before his brother began to fuck him hard.  
  
"So good, Sammy, so fucking hot!" Dean gripped Sam's hips, slamming into his brother's body repeatedly his fingers digging into him, fingernails biting into soft flesh. It was over in moments, Dean giving a strangled cry and burying himself deep in Sam's ass, filling him with the hot essence of his lust, the darkness draining from him with the strength of his orgasm, he collapsed onto the bed.  
  
Sam moaned, moving to lie on his stomach when Dean pulled out of him. He palmed his own erection, realising there would be no release for him. He closed his eyes, rolling onto his side with his back to Dean. _He looks out for me…I'll…I'll do this for him. He…he needs me._  
  
With an effort, Sam managed to roll over facing his brother. "Dean?"  
  
"Huh?" Dean seemed to come back from somewhere far away; he blinked a few times then focussed his gaze on Sam's face.  
  
"Feel better?" Sam brushed the backs of his fingers against Dean's face.  
  
"Sam?" Dean struggled to sit up, staring at Sam's sweat dampened hair. He swallowed hard. "Sam…God I…look at you! What happened here?" He ghosted his fingers over the plain indentations of fingernails on Sam's hip. "Did…did I…oh fuck! Sam, I'm sorry."  
  
"Hey...shhh." Sam brushed his thumb over Dean's bottom lip "Nothin to be sorry for, felt good right? I think it did." He smiled sleepily.  
  
Dean lay down again and closed his eyes.  _You're lying, Sammy._  Blindly reaching for Sam, he pulled him close. "I didn't want to hurt you anymore," he whispered brokenly. "I c-can't do this, Sammy, I can't control it. I…I…" Despite his efforts to fight them back, the tears came. Burying his face against Sam's shoulder, Dean wept like a baby. "Sorry, Sammy...So sorry..."  
  
Sam hitched closer to Dean. "I'm always gonna be here for you Dean, whatever it takes, I don't care...you look out for me...I can do this for you, Dean. I can't explain it Bro, I feel stronger somehow when your with me. It's like nothin' evil here or in hell could be a match for us. It doesn't matter, you got that? I was just bein' plain stupid, fuckin' girly like you said before. But I need you ok?"  
  
"Shouldn't have to be this way, Sam." Dean's voice was a broken whisper. "I never used to be this way, not before ... not with..." He pulled away. "I don't want to hurt you."  
  
Sam reached for his brother's hand and took it in his. "Don't you freak out on me now Dean. We can do slow when slow is meant to be ok? For now though, I'm gonna keep you grounded any way I know how."  
  
Dean nodded, closing his eyes to hide the fear and pain in them. He gripped Sam's hand tight. "Don't let it take me, Sam. Don't let me go." He whispered.  
  
"I gotcha Bro," Sam whispered. They lay still and quiet for awhile, until Dean had settled and then Sam stirred, he gently pulled away and got up, wincing a little, reaching for his shorts and jeans. "Hey Bro, you wanna…go get a drink or somethin'?"  
  
Dean frowned, his eyes going to the clock beside their bed. "A drink-now?"  
  
Sam followed his brother's gaze. "I…uh shit I didn't realise the time. I think I'll…I'll just go for a walk, okay?" He rummaged for a clean shirt and put it on.  
  
"A walk? It's the dead of night, Sammy, You know how stupid it would be for you to be out at this hour!"  
  
"I just need some air, Dean. I won't go far," Sam replied.  
  
Dean stared at his brother for a moment, and then relented with a sigh. "Okay, but take your phone, and the Glock…and if you don't haul your ass back here within the hour, I'm comin' after you, and you'd better have a damn good reason."  
  
"I'll be fine, Dean." Sam picked up his jacket and put it on, pocketing his cell and the gun Dean insisted he take. He let himself out of the motel room into the chill night air, turning his steps towards an old church he'd spotted on their way to the motel.  _Maybe, if Dad traded his soul and the colt for Dean…maybe God will listen to me._ **  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> And every time I've held a rose  
>  It seems I only felt the thorns  
> And so it goes, and so it goes  
> And so will you soon I suppose_
> 
> _But if my silence made you leave  
>  Then that would be my worst mistake  
> So I will share this room with you  
> And you can have this heart to break  
> And So It Goes - Billy Joel_
> 
> * * *

Three Days Later, a motel near Ellen's Roadhouse  
  
Dean walked into the motel room, carrying a twelve pack of beer and singing off key. "Fell ohhhn, black days…fell on black daaaayhaaays!"*  
  
"You're cheerful today," Sam said, looking up from where he sat, poring over John Winchester's journal.  
  
"Hey, little bro. Why wouldn't I be cheerful? Got my car, Got my beer," he raised the beer before he stooped to put it into the refrigerator. And we've got us some downtime! Ash says there's nothing on the radar."  
  
"Riiight, Sam said.  _Who are you, and what have you done with Dean?_   Sam looked his brother over.  _What new game is this, Dean?_  
  
"You're suckin' lemons again, Sam." Dean hunkered down in front of the fridge and put the beer away, snagging a bottle for himself before he closed the door.   
  
"Huh! Not many opportunities to suck anything else lately." Sam said with a scowl. It had been days since he and Dean had done anything. Every time Sam tried to initiate, Dean would fob him off with an excuse, or just flatly reject his advances. He scowled at Dean's grinning face and picked up the remote, flicking the TV on and scrolling through channels.   
  
Dean shrugged, popping the beer and moving to flop himself down on the bed next to Sam. "What's on the tube?" He took a slug of his beer.  
  
Sam flicked through a few channels and then stopped on channel 69. "Hard core porn," he said, "Wanna watch?"  
  
Dean was in the middle of another slug of beer and he choked spluttering and sat up "Shit!" He swiped at spilled beer on the front of his shirt. "No I don't wanna watch porn," he said.  
  
Sam cursed and threw the remote in his brother's lap. "You know what, watch whatever the fuck you want. I'm going out!"  
  
"Hey what the hell's up with you?" Dean scowled at his brother's back as Sam stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He put his beer on the floor beside the bed and stared at the lurid images on the TV screen for a few minutes before he clicked the set off.

 

\--  
  
Sam muttered to himself as he walked out to Dean's car. The keys were in it, and Sam glanced towards their room before he made a decision. He got in behind the wheel and started the engine.  _He's real good at playing it so fucking cool._ Sam gunned the engine, heading towards the roadhouse, hoping to cool his temper.  
  
\--  
  
The roadhouse was quiet in the mid afternoon. Ellen stood behind the bar, wiping glasses and singing along to a sad song on the jukebox. Ash was hiding away in his backroom, and Jo was off about her own pursuits. It was a time of day that Ellen enjoyed; Time to think and work quietly, to remember former days, and be alone with her thoughts.  
  
She looked up when the door opened and Sam Winchester stepped into the bar.  
  
"Hey, Ellen," Sam said. "Any chance of a drink?"  
  
"Hi, Sam." Ellen raised an eyebrow. "Dean left here not ten minutes ago with a twelve-pack said he was taking it back to the motel to share with…" She trailed off as Sam's expression darkened. "I guess I can find a beer or two around here," she said.  
  
She went to a cold-case and took out two bottles, popping the lids off and handing one to Sam. "What's on your mind, Sam?"  
  
"What?" Sam met her eyes. "Ah it's nothin' just some stuff goin' on between me and Dean. You know how it is with brothers."  
  
"I know how it is with _most_ brothers," Ellen replied. She picked up her bottle and moved around the bar to sit on a stool next to Sam. "I get the feeling though that you and your brother are a special case. Cheers!" She held her beer bottle out to him and they tapped the necks together.  
  
"Ellen, _most_ brothers haven't been huntin' the things under their beds since they were seven. _Most_ brothers are out at college, cruisin' in their cars, gettin' laid." Sam took a gulp of his beer. "Ain't no wonder we're…as you say, different."  
  
Ellen studied Sam for a long moment, her eyes growing distant with memory.  _I wonder if he even realises how like his father he is?_   "I wasn't making any calls, Sam, just sayin..."  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to take you down, Ellen. It's just, Dean, you know he blows so freakin' hot and cold."  
  
"Yeah, I know about that, Sam. I was married to a hunter, you know." She grinned at him.  
  
Sam nodded. "Must've been tough, wonderin' if he was going to come home some nights?"  
  
"It could be, if I let it." Ellen sighed. "Hunters, they don't think like other people. They don't see the world the same. They can't." She took another mouthful of her beer. "They see too much of what goes on in the dark and it gets inside them."  
  
"I'm huntin' the same things he is. He don't need to shut me out. I get so tired, Ellen. One day he needs me and the next…" Freezes, suddenly realizing who he is talking to and what he was about to spill. Glances at Ellen and draws his lips together in a thin line.  
  
"And the next day, he's mister sunshine, king of the world, top of the heap and you're ..." Ellen reached to touch Sam on the shoulder. "Baby, I know what's going on with you two. Not much happens under my roof that I don't know it. I guess it comes with the territory."  
  
Sam turned to Ellen, shocked, staring into her eyes. "Who else knows?"  
  
Shrugging, Ellen took another pull at her beer. "Who else have you told?"  
  
"No-one. it ain't something we would broadcast." Sam looked away turning his bottle round and round on the bar, watching as condensation ran off the bottle onto the counter-top. "But if you figured it out…"  
  
"I don't think anyone around here would say anything, even if they'd guessed. I'm the widow of a hunter, Sam. I guess I recognize the signs when I see them in someone else."  
  
Sam blushed, letting his eyelids fall to conceal his feelings. "Dean'll kill me if he finds out that anyone knows. That I…talked to you."  
  
"And just how is he goin' to find that out, honey?" Ellen quirked an eyebrow at Sam. "I've got no reason to want to see him hurt you."  
  
Sam closed his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle, unconsciously white-knuckling it. "He gets this look in his eyes, Ellen, like when we're huntin' and he's inside himself fighting; just ready for the kill, you know? Then, as fast as it comes, it's gone and there's just this…sadness there instead. It kills me, but I don't know what to say-what to do." Sam closed his eyes.  
  
  
Ellen listened in silence, thinking of all the times she has seen that same lost sadness in the eyes of the hunters who come to her roadhouse. She sighed and leaned an elbow on the bar, looking at Sam. "He doesn't want you to say anything, Sam. If he's anything like the man I think he is…Dean just wants…"  
  
"Wants what?" Sam turned, staring intently into her eyes.   
  
Meeting his eyes squarely, Ellen reached to put a hand on his shoulder. "He just wants you to be there when he comes back to himself. He wants to know that there is still something worth fighting for. He wants to know that, just for today, he has kept the dark from touching you."  
  
With a deep sigh, Sam put his bottle down on the bar and made to stand up. "I should…you know…" he glanced towards the door.  
  
"Sam?" Ellen kept hold of his arm.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I know it's hard, honey. I know it hurts when you feel like he is shutting himself away from you. The best thing you can do for him is just be what he wants to be. If he wants to laugh, laugh with him. If he wants a beer...have one...and when he wants to cry...and he will... then...do that, too."  
  
"I'll try to remember that," Sam said. He moved towards the door and then turned back. "Ellen?"  
  
She smiled at him.  
  
"Thanks." Sam stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine.  
  
Watching him leave, Ellen drew a long breath, letting it out on a sigh.  _They'll be okay, those two_. She glanced up as Jo walked into the bar from out-back.  _I only hope it doesn't break her heart when she figures it out._  
  
\--  
  
Sam hesitated outside the motel room, biting his lip, wondering if Dean was going to be pissed with him for taking the car without asking. He drew a deep breath, deciding that he would face whatever his brother wanted to throw at him and opened the door.  
  
Dean was sprawled face down on the bed, apparently sleeping. Sam put the car keys on the table and went to the refrigerator, snagging one of the beers Dean had brought back and headed into the bathroom. He started the shower running, cracked open the beer and leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and let the long resisted tears fall.

  
  
\--

  
Dean rolled over onto his back and used the sleeve of his shirt to scrub away traces of the storm of tears that had taken him into a fitful sleep. The sound of water running in the bathroom had wakened him. He lifted his head from the pillow. "That you, Sam?"  
  
There was no response and Dean got up off the bed, scrubbing at his face again.  _Bawling like a fucking baby…oughta be ashamed!_  Dean walked to the bathroom door, taking in the sight of Sam hunched on the floor, his head resting on drawn up knees, a beer on the floor beside him. He glanced at the shower. The room was filled with steam.  
  
"Management won't be happy with you, if you use all the hot water, dude."  
  
Sam started and looked up. "No, I s'pose not." He started to pull off his shoes and socks.  
  
"Are you…You're…okay, right?" Dean averted his eyes when Sam pulled his shirt off over his head and began to unbutton his jeans.  
  
"I'm fine, Dean. Just took me a while to get to sleep last night. I'll turn in after I shower."  
  
"Uh, okay, I'll leave ya to it, then." Dean moved back from the door as Sam stepped into the shower, but edged back again a moment later.  _How is it that he can even make water look sexy?_  
  
"I'll call ya when I want you to wash my back," Sam snarked. He glanced over his shoulder at Dean. "Stall's big enough for both of us. We could both use an early night, and we could get out on the road early tomorrow. Watch yourself getting in. I just burned my ass…waters a little warm."  
  
"No way, Dude. I'm not gettin' in there with you," Dean replied. "Everyone knows you pee in the shower!"  
  
Sam chuckled. "That's not as bad as what you used to do when we were kids!"  
  
"Hey, every kid does that! At least I never peed in the pool!" Dean countered. He watched as Dean slipped under the water, soaking his hair.  
  
"Every kid does that, too," Sam said. "And at least it was a big pool, not a little bathtub." He picked up the soap, rubbing it awkwardly over his face, one handed. He rubbed lather into his hair and then ducked under the spray again to rinse off.  
  
The pain hit Sam unawares, as it always did, searing white-hot pain behind his eyes, made him suck a breath, gulping water and flying into a flat panic. He flailed blindly as images began to flash rapid-fire through his mind.  
  
"Sam," Dean jumped back as water splashed across the floor, landing on the toe of his boot. "Little lighter on the seal impersonations!"  
  
"Gaaah!" Sam held the side of the tub for dear life. "Dean!"  
  
 _The young redhead was walking along a deserted track, her hair glinting with chestnut lights in the fading glow of sunset. She carried a knapsack on her shoulders and held a bottle of water in her hand.  
  
A dark shape lurked in the shadows behind her, but the girl didn't seem to notice. Sam's heart began to race. He could sense the danger that the girl didn't notice._  
  
"Sam?" Dean watched his brother for a moment before realisation sunk in. "Oh fuck!" He was at Sam's side in a moment, grabbing for Sam's arms. "I gotcha, bro. What's happening?"  
 _  
_Sam shook his head, eyes closed. He let his brother hold him, caught in the vision. _  
  
There was movement from the roadside and the girl paused, looking around. "Hello?" She took a step towards the dark shadow Sam could see lurking not far ahead of her. "Who's there?"  
  
The shadows seemed to shift, moving with fluid speed and grace. Sam saw the girl's eyes go wide. She screamed and flung up an arm in a defensive motion but she was too late. There was an unholy sound, the girl shrieked, blood erupting from deep claw marks that appeared on her face and throat. She drew one last, gurgling breath and was still._  
  
"Oh fuck!" Sam's gut heaved and he swallowed convulsively.  
  
"What was it, Sam? What'd you see?" Dean reached for a towel, helping Sam to his feet. "C'mon, let's get you out of this. You don't wanna get chilled."  
  
"A girl, I saw a girl," Sam panted. "Something hit her…oh Christ, Dean, it ripped her apart." He gasped, pressing fingers to his temples, sobbing.  
  
"Something? What, what a demon?" Dean began to rub Sam's trembling form with the towel. "Where, when?"  
  
"I-I don't know." Sam shook his head. "It was coming on dark, there was nothin' to give me a clue where it was. Oh fuck, Dean, she could already be dead, for all the use I am!" Sam closed his eyes, shivering with the after-effects of the vision.  
  
"Don't talk like that." Dean said, rubbing the towel over Sam's skin, pausing a moment when he saw bruises on Sam's hip. "You just need time; something else might come to you." He ghosted his fingers over the bruises.  _God, Sammy. I...I never meant to hurt you.  
_  
Sam swayed on his feet. "There's a lot of energy, Dean. I could feel it."  
  
Dean nodded and took hold of Sam's arm. "Okay, come on in here," he led Sam through to the bedroom. "Could be that bastard showing his fugly face at last…I hope to hell it is. Here, sit on the bed, I'll get you some clean clothes." Dean made to stand up but Sam's fingers dug into his forearm.  
  
"No. No, Dean, stay with me." He shuddered. "You should have seen her, Dean…the look on her face an instant before…" Gagging, Sam looked away.  
  
"Sammy, you're gonna get your death! Get into bed at least. I'm not going anywhere, I just wanna get you warm." Dean glanced at Sam's injured arm. "I think the cast got wet, too," he said.  
  
"Stay with me, Dean." Sam got into bed, pulling Dean with him.  
  
"Okay, I'm here," Dean said, pulling Sam into his arms and settling his brother's head on his chest. "I gotcha." He listened as Sam's breathing settled and slowed, feeling the lean frame relax against him. Dean closed his eyes, pushing the mild sense of arousal that stirred to the back of his mind. _I'm not touching him like that again. I won't let that bastard get to him through me._ He closed his eyes, but they snapped open a moment later when Sam grazed his lips across the base of Dean's throat.  
  
 _It's gonna be a long night._  Dean thought as he felt his brother relax, falling into a deep slumber.  
  
  
  
~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fell on Black Days by Soundgarden


End file.
